HELEN  OF  TROY 

AND  OTHER  POEMS 


BY  SARA  TEASDALE 

HELEN  OF  TROY  AND  OTHER 
POEMS,    1911 

RIVERS   TO  THE   SEA,    1915 

LOVE   SONGS,   1917 

FLAME  AND  SHADOW,  1921 


HELEN   OF   TROY 

AND  OTHER  POEMS 


BY 

SARA  TEASDALE 


Sotft 

THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 
1922 

All  rights  reserved 


Acki  * 


COPYRIGHT,  1911, 
BY  SARA  TEASDALE 


COPYRIGHT,  1922, 
BY  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 


Published  October,  1911,  reprinted  October,  1912 
New  and  revised  edition  March,  1922. 


I  5  35 


MARION  CUMMINGS  STANLKY 


M205159 


Thanks  are  due  to  the  editors  of  Harper's,  Century, 
Scribner's,  and  other  periodicals,  for  their  courteous 
permission  to  reprint  many  of  the  following  poems. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

HELEN  OF  TROY 

BEATRICE 

SAPPHO •     •     •  21 

MARIANNA  ALCOFORANDO ' 

GUENEVERE     .      •      •      •     •     •     •    .  •     •     •     •  27 

ERINNA     ,......' •     •  30 

LOVE  SONGS 

Song  .      .     . •    ••  35 

The  Rose  and  the  Bee  .......  36 

The  Song  Maker    ........  37 

Wild  Asters      .      .     .     .     .     .     .    ,.   '  ..  38 

When  Love  Goes 39 

The  Princess  in  the  Tower     .....  40 

When  Love  Was  Born    ......  42 

The  Shrine 43 

The  Blind     ...........  44 

Love  Me 45 

The  Song  for  Colin 46 

[ix] 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Four  Winds 47 

Dew 48 

A  Maiden 49 

"I  Love  You" 50 

But  Not  to  Me 51 

Hidden  Love 52 

Snow  Song 53 

Youth  and  the  Pilgrim   ......  54 

The  Wanderer  .      . 55 

I  Would  Live  in  Your  Love  .     .     .     .     .  56 

May 57 

Less  than  the  Cloud  to  the  Wind  ...  58 

Buried  Love 59 

Song 60 

Pierrot    . 61 

At  Night 62 

Song 63 

The  Kiss 64 

November 65 

The  Wind 66 

A  Winter  Night 67 

The  Metropolitan  Tower 68 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Gramercy  Park 69 

In  the  Metropolitan  Museum 70 

Coney  Island 71 

Union  Square 72 

Central  Park  at  Dusk       ......  73 

Young  Love .     .  74 

SONNETS  AND  LYRICS 

Primavera  Mia  .      ...     .      .      .      .     .      .  81 

For  the  Anniversary  of  John  Keats '  Death  82 

Silence .'     .  83 

Fear .  84 

Galahad  in  the  Castle  of  the  Maidens     .     ..85 

To  an  JEolian  Harp   .......  86 

To  Erinna    ...........  87 

To  Cleis 88 

.  Paris  in  Spring 90 

Madeira  from  the  Sea 92 

City  Vignettes 93 

By  the  Sea 94 

Triolets 96 

Vox  Corporis .  98 

A  Ballad  of  Two  Knights 99 

[xi] 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Christmas  Carol 100 

The  Faery  Forest 102 

A  Fantasy 103 

A  Minuet  of  Mozart's 104 

Twilight  105 


[xii] 


HELEN  OF  TROY 

AND  OTHER  POEMS 


HELEN  OF  TEOY 

WILD  flight  on  flight  against  the  fading  dawn 

The  flames'  red  wings  soar  upward  duskily. 

This  is  the  funeral  pyre'and  Troy  is  dead 

That  sparkled  so  the  day  I  saw  it  first, 

And  darkened  slowly  after. /I  am  she 

Who  loves  all  beauty — yet !  wither  it./ 

Why  have  the  high  gods  made  me  wreaK  their  wrath — 

Forever  since  my  maidenhood  to  sow 

Sorrow  and  blood  about  me  ?    See,  they  keep 

Their  bitter  care  above  me  even  now. 

It  was  the  gods  who  led  me  to  this  lair, 

That  though  the  burning  winds  should    make    me 

weak, 

They  should  not  snatch  the  life  from  out  my  lips. 
Olympus  let  the  other  women  die ; 
They  shall  be  quiet  when  the  day  is  done 
And  have  no  care  to-morrow.     Yet  for  me 
There  is  no  rest.     The  gods  are  not  so  kind 
To  her  made  half  immortal  like  themselves. 

It  is  to  you  I  owe  the  cruel  gift, 
Leda,  my  mother,  and  the  Swan,  my  sire, 
To  you  the  beauty  and  to  you  the  bale ; 
For  never  woman  born  of  man  and  maid 

[15] 


HELEN  OF  TROY 

Had  wrought  such  havoc  on  the  earth  as  I, 
Or  troubled  heaven  with  a  sea  of  flame 
That  climbed  to  touch  the  silent  whirling  stars, 
Blotting  their  brightness  out  before  the  dawn. 
Have  I  not  made  the  world  to  weep  enough? 
Give  death  to  me. 

Yet  life  is  more  than  death ; 
How  could  I  leave  the  sound  of  singing  winds, 
The  strong  clean  scent  that  breathes  from  off  the  sea, 
Or  shut  my  eyes  forever  to  the  spring? 
I  will  not  give  the  grave  my  hands  to  hold, 
My  shining  hair  to  light  oblivion. 
Have  those  who  wander  through  the  ways  of  death, 
The  still  wan  fields 'Elysian,  any  love 
To  lift  their  breasts  with  longing,  any  lips 
To  thirst  against  the  quiver  of  a  kiss? 
I  shall  live  on  to  .conquer,  Greece  again, 
To  make  the  people  love,  who  hate  me  now. 
My  dreams  are  over,/1!  have  ceased  to  cry 
Against  the  fate  that  made  men  love  my  mouth 
And  left  their  spirits  all  too  deaf  to  hear 
The  songs  that  echoed  always  in  my  soul. 

I  have  no  anger  now.     The  dreams  are  done; 
Yet  since  the  Greeks  and  Trojans  would  not  see 
Aught  but  my  body's  fairness,  till  the  end, 
In  all  the  islands  set  in  all  the  seas, 
And  all  the  lands  that  lie  beneath  the  sun, 
Till  light  turn  darkness,  and  till  time  shall  sleep. 
Men's  lives  shall  waste  with  longing  after  me, 

[16] 


HELEN  OF  TROY 

For  I  shall  be  the  sum  of  their  desire, 

The  whole  of  beauty,  never  seen  again. 

And  they  shall  stretch  their  arms  and  starting,  wake, 

With  "Helen!"  on  their  lips,  and  in  their  eyes 

The  vision  of  me.     Always  I  shall  be 

Limned  on  the  darkness  like  a  shaft  of  light 

That  glimmers  and  is  gone.     They  shall  behold 

Each  one  his  dream  that  fashions  me  anew; — 

With  hair  like  lakes  that  glint  beneath  the  stars 

Dark  as  sweet  midnight,  or  with  hair  aglow 

Like  burnished  gold  that  still  retains  the  fire. 

I  shall  be  haunting  till  the  dusk  of  time 

The  heavy  eyelids  that  are  filled  with  dreams. 

I  wait  for  one  who  comes  with  sword  to  slay — 
The  king  I  wronged  who  searches  for  me  now; 
And  yet  he  shall  not  slay  me.     I  shall  stand 
With  lifted  head  and  look  into  his  eyes, 
Baring  my  breast  to  him  and  to  the  sun. 
He  shall  not  have  the  power  to  stain  with  blood 
That  whiteness — for  the  thirsty  sword  shall  fall 
And  he  shall  cry  and  catch  me  in  his  arms. 
I  shall  go  back  to  Sparta  on  his  breast. 
I  shall  live  on  to  conquer  Greece  again! 


[17] 


BEATEICE 

SEND  out  the  singers — let  the  room  be  still; 
They  have  not  eased  my  pain  nor  brought  me 

sleep. 

Close  out  the  sun,  for  I  would  have  it  dark 
That  I  may  feel  how  black  the  grave  will  be. 
The  sun  is  setting,  for  the  light  is  red, 
And  you  are  outlined  in  a  golden  fire, 
Like  Ursula  upon  an  altar-screen. 
Come,  leave  the  light  and  sit  beside  my  bed, 
For  I  have  had  enough  of  saints  and  prayers. 
Strange  broken  thoughts  are  beating  in  my  brain, 
They  come  and  vanish  and  again  they  come. 
It  is  the  fever  driving  out  my  soul, 
And  Death  stands  waiting  by  the  arras  there. 

Ornella,  I  will  speak,  for  soon  my  lips 
Shall  keep  a  silence  till  the  end  of  time. 
You  have  a  mouth  for  loving — listen  then: 
Keep  tryst  with  Love  before  Death  comes  to  tryst; 
For  I,  who  die,  could  wish  that  I  had  lived 
A  little  closer  to  the  world  of  men, 
Not  watching  always  through  the  blazoned  panes 
That  show  the  world  in  chilly  greens  and  blues 
And  grudge  the  sunshine  that  would  enter  in. 

[18] 


BEATRICE 

I  was  no  part  of  all  the  troubled  crowd 

That  moved  beneath  the  palace  windows  here, 

And  yet  sometimes  a  knight  in  shining  steel 

Would  pass  and  catch  the  gleaming  of  my  hair, 

And  wave  a  mailed  hand  and  smile  at  me. 

I  made  no  sign  to  him  and  turned  away, 

Frightened  and  yet  glad  and  full  of  dreams. 

Ah,  dreams  and  dreams  that  asked  no  answering! 

I  should  have  wrought  to  make  my  dreams  come  true. 

But  all   my  life  was  like  an  autumn  day, 

Full  of  gray  quiet  and  a  hazy  peace. 

What  was  I  saying?     All  is  gone  again. 
It  seemed  but  now  I  was  the  little  child 
Who  played  within  a  garden  long  ago. 
Beyond  the  walls  the  festal  trumpets  blared. 
Perhaps  they  carried  some  Madonna  by  ' 
With  tossing  ensigns  in  a  sea  of  flowers, 
A  painted  Virginxwith  a  painted  Child^ 
Who  saw  for  once  the  sweetness  of  the  sun 
Before  they  shut  her  in  an  altar-niche^ 
Where  tapers  smoke  against  the  windy  gloom. 
I  gathered  roses  redder  than  my  gown 
And  played  "that  I  was  Saint  Elizabeth, 
Whose  wine  had  turned  to  roses  in  her  hands. 
And  as  I  played,  a  child  came  through  the  gate, 
A  boy  who  looked  at  me  without  a  word, 
As  though  'he  saw  stretch  f ar^behind  my  head, 
Long  lines  of  radiant  angels,  row  on  row. 
That  day  we  spoke  a  little   timidly, 

[19] 


BEATRICE 

And  after  that  I  never  heard  his  voice; 

Never  again  in  after  years  his  voice 

That  sang  so  many  songs  for  love  of  me. 

He  was  content  to  stand  and  watch  me  pass, 

To  seek  for  me  at  matins  every  day, 

Where  I  could  feel  his  eyes,  although  I  prayed. 

I  think  if  he  had  stretched  his  hands  to  me, 

Or  moved  his  lips  to  say  a  single  word, 

I  might  have  loved  him  .... 

Ornella,  are  you  there?     I  cannot  see — 
Is  every  one  so  lonely  when  he  dies? 

The  room  is  filled  with  lights — with  waving  lights 
Who  are  the  men  and  women  'round  the  bed? 
What  have  I  said,  Ornella?     Have  they  heard? 
There  was  no  evil  hidden  in  my  life, 
And  yet,  oh  never,  never  let  them  know — 

Am  I  not  floating  in  a  mist  of  light? 
Oh,  lift  me  up  and  I  shall  reach  the  sunl 


[20] 


SAPPHO 

I  have  a  fair  daughter  -with  a  form  like  a  golden  flower, 
Cle'is,  the  beloved. 

Sapphic  fragment. 

THE  twilight 's  inner  flame  grows  blue  and  deep, 
And  in  my  Lesbos,  over  leagues  of  sea, 
The  temples  glimmer  moonwise  in  the  trees. 
Twilight  has  veiled  the  little  flower  face 
Here  on  my  heart,  but  still  the  night  is  kind 
And  leaves  her  warm  sweet  weight  against  my  breast. 
Am  I  that  Sappho  who  would  run  at  dusk 
Along  the  surges  creeping  up  the  shore 
When  tides  came  in  to  ease  the  hungry  beach, 
And  running,  running,  till  the  night  was  black, 
Would  fall  forespent  upon  the  chilly  sand 
And  quiver  with  the  wind  from  off  the  sea? 
Ah,  quietly  the  shingle  waits  the  tides 
Whose  waves  are  stinging  kisses,  but  to  me 
Love  brought  no  peace,  nor  darkness  any  rest. 
I  crept  and  touched  the  foam  with  feverish  hands, 
And  cried  to  Love,  from  whom  the  sea  is  sweet, 
From  whom  the  sea  is  bitterer  than  death. 

Ah,  Aphrodite,  if  I  sing  no  more 
To  thee,  God's  daughter,  powerful  as  God, 

[21] 


SAPPHO 

It  is  that  thou  hast  made  my  life  too  sweet 

To  hold  the  added  sweetness  of  a  song. 

There  is  a  quiet  at  the  heart  of  love, 

And  I  have  pierced  the  pain  and  come  to  peace. 

I  hold  my  peace,  my  Cle'is,  on  my  heart ; 

And  softer  than  a  little  wild  bird's  wing 

Are  kisses  that  she  pours  upon  my  mouth. 

Ah,  never  any  more  when  spring  like  fire 
Will  flicker  in  the  newly  opened  leaves, 
Shall  I  steal  forth  to  seek  for  solitude 
Beyond  the  lure  of  light  Alcaeus'  lyre, 
Beyond  the  sob  that  stilled  Erinna's  voice. 
Ah,  never  with  a  throat  that  aches  with  song, 
Beneath  the  white  uncaring  sky  of  spring, 
Shall  I  go  forth  to  hide  awhile  from  Love 
The  quiver  and  the  crying  of  my  heart. 
Still  I  remember  how  I  strove  to  flee 
The  love-note  of  the  birds,  and  bowed  my  head 
To  hurry  faster,  but  upon  the  ground 
I  saw  two  winged  shadows  side  by  side, 
And  all  the  world's  spring  passion  stifled  me. 

Ah,  Love,  there  is  no  fleeing  from  thy  might, 

No  lonely  place  where  thou  hast  never  trod, 

No  desert  thou  hast  left  uncarpeted 

With  flowers  that  spring  beneath  thy  warm,  quick 

feet. 

In  many  guises  didst  thou  come  to  me; 
I  saw  thee  by  the  maidens  while  they  danced, 

[22] 


SAPPHO 

Phaon  allured  me  with  a  look  of  thine, 

In  Anactoria  I  knew  thy  passion, 

I  looked  at  Cercolas  and  saw  thine  eyes; 

But  never  wholly,  soul  and  body  mine, 

Didst  thou  bid  any  love  me  as  I  loved. 

Now  I  have  found  the  peace  that  fled  from  me ; 

Close,  close,  against  my  heart  I  hold  my  world. 

Ah,  Love  that  made  my  life  a  singing  cry, 
Ah,  Love  that  tuned  my  lips  to  lyres  of  thine, 
I  taught  the  world  thy  music,  now  alone 
I  sing  for  one  who  falls  asleep  to  hear. 


[23] 


MARIANNA  ALCOFORANDO 

(The  Portuguese  Nun— 1640-1723) 

THE  sparrows  wake  beneath  the  convent  eaves; 
I  think  I  have  not  slept  the  whole  night  through. 
But  I  am  old;  the  aged  scarcely  know 
The  times  they  wake  and  sleep,  for  life  burns  down ; 
They  breathe  the  calm  of  death  before  they  die. 
The  long  night  ends,  the  day  comes  creeping  in, 
Showing  the  sorrows  that  the  darkness  hid, 
The  bended  head  of  Christ,  the  blood,  the  thorns, 
The  wall's  gray  stains  of  damp,  the  pallet  bed 
Where  little  Sister  Marta  dreams  of  saints, 
Waking  with  arms  outstretched  imploringly 
That  seek  to  stay  a  vision's  vanishing. 

I  never  had  a  vision,  yet  for  me 
Our  Lady  smiled  while  all  the  convent  slept 
One  winter  midnight  hushed  around  with  snow — 
I  thought  she  might  be  kinder  than  the  rest, 
And  so  I  came  to  kneel  before  her  feet, 
Sick  with  love's  sorrow  and  love's  bitterness. 
But  when  I  would  have  made  the  blessed  sign, 
I  found  the  water  frozen  in  the  font, 
And  touched  sharp  ice  within  the  curving  stone. 
The  saints  had  hid  themselves  away  from  me, 

[24] 


MARIANNA  ALCOFORANDO 

And  left  the  windows  black  against  the  night; 
And  when  I  sank  upon  the  altar  steps, 
Before  the  Virgin  Mother  and  her  Child, 
The  last,  pale,  low-burnt  taper  flickered  out, 
But  in  the  darkness,  smooth  and  fathomless, 
Still  like  a  star  the  holy  lamp  was  twinkling 
That  cast  a  dusky  glow  upon  her  face. 
Then  through  the  numbing  cold,  peace  fell  on  me, 
Submission  and  the  gracious  gift  of  tears, 
For  when  I  looked,  Oh!  blessed  miracle, 
Her  lips  had  parted  and  Our  Lady  smiled! 
And  then  I  knew  that  Love  is  worth  its  pain 
And  that  my  heart  was  richer  for  his  sake, 
Since  lack  of  love  is  bitterest  of  all. 

The  day  is  broad  awake — the  first  long  beam 

Of  level  sun  finds  Sister  Marta's  face, 

And  trembling  there  it  lights  a  timid  smile 

Upon  the  lips  that  say  so  many  prayers, 

And  have  no  words  for  hate  and  none  for  love. 

But  when  she  passes  where  her  prayers  have  gone, 

Will  God  not  smile  a  little  sadly  then, 

And  send  her  back  with  gentle  words  to  earth 

That  she  may  hold  a  child  against  her  breast 

And  feel  its  small,  warm  hands  upon  her  hair? 

We  weep  before  the  blessed  Mother's  shrine, 
To  think  upon  her  sorrows,  but  her  joys 
What  nun  could  ever  know  a  tithing  of? 
The  precious  hours  she  watched  above  His  sleep 

[25] 


MARIANNA  ALCOFORANDO 

Were  worth  the  fearful  anguish  of  the  end; 

Yes,  lack  of  love  is  bitterest  of  all. 

Yet  I  have  felt  what  thing  it  is  to  know 

One  thought  forever,  sleeping  or  awake; 

To  say  one  name  whose  sweetness  grows  so  wild 

That  it  might  work  a  spell  on  those  who  weep ; 

To  feel  the  weight  of  love  upon  my  heart 

So  heavy  that  the  blood  can  scarcely  flow. 

Love  comes  to  some  unlooked-for,  quietly, 

As  when  at  twilight,  with  a  soft  surprise, 

We  see  the  new-born  crescent  in  the  blue; 

And  unto  others  love  is  planet-like, 

A  cold  and  placid  gleam  that  never  wavers; 

And  there  are  those  who  wait  the  call  of  love 

Expectant  of  his  coming,  as  we  watch 

To  see  the  east  grow  pale  before  the  moon 

Lifts  up  her  flower-like  head  against  the  night. 

But  love,  for  me,  was  like  a  cruel  sun, 

That  on  some  rain-drenched  morning,  when  the  leaves 

Are  bowed  beneath  their  clinging  weight  of  drops, 

Tears  through  the  mist,  and  burns  with  fervent  heat 

The  tender  grasses  and  the  meadow  flowers; 

Then  suddenly  the  heavy  clouds  close  in 

And  through  the  dark  the  thunder's  muttering 

Is  drowned  amid  the  dashing  of  the  rain. 

But  I  have  seen  my  day  grow  calm  again. 
The  sun  sets  slowly  on  a  peaceful  world, 
And  sheds  a  quiet  light  across  the  fields. 

[26] 


GUENEVEBE 

I  WAS  a  queen,  and  I  have  lost  my  crown ; 

A  wife,  and  I  have  broken  all  my  vows; 

A  lover,  and  I  ruined  him  I  loved: — 

There  is  no  other  havoc  left  to  do. 

A  little  month  ago  I  was  a  queen, 

And  mothers  held  their  babies  up  to  see 

When  I  came  riding  out  of  Camelot. 

The  women  smiled,  and  all  the  world  smiled  too. 

And  now,  what  woman 's  eyes  would  smile  on  me? 

I  am  still  beautiful,  and  yet  what  child 

Would  think  of  me  as  some  high,  heaven-sent  thing, 

An  angel,  clad,  in  gold  and  miniver? 

The  world  would  run  from  me,  and  yet  I  am 

No  different  from  the  queen  they  used  to  love. 

If  water,  flowing  silver  over  stones, 

Is  forded,  and  beneath  the  horses'  feet 

Grows  turbid  suddenly,  it  clears  again, 

And  men  will  drink  it  with  no  thought  of  harm. 

Yet'  I  am  branded  for  a  single  fault. 

I  was  the  flower  amid  a  toiling  world, 
Where  people  smiled  to  see  one  happy  thing, 
And  they  were  proud  and  glad  to  raise  me  high; 
They  only  asked  that  I  should  be  right  fair, 

[27] 


GUENBVERE 

A  little  kind,  and  gowned  wondrously, 
And  surely  it  were  little  praise  to  me 
If  I  had  pleased  them  well  throughout  my  life. 

I  was  a  queen,  the  daughter  of  a  king. 
The  crown  was  never  heavy  on  my  head, 
It  was  my  right,  and  was  a  part  of  me. 
The  women  thought  me  proud,  the  men  were  kind, 
And  bowed  down  gallantly  to  kiss  my  hand, 
And  watched  me  as  I  passed  them  calmly  by, 
Along  the  halls  I  shall  not  tread  again. 
What  if,  to-night,  I  should  revisit  them? 
The  warders  at  the  gates,  the  kitchen-maids, 
The  very  beggars  would  stand  off  from  me, 
And  I,  their  queen,  would  climb  the  stairs  alone, 
Pass  through  the  banquet-hall,  a  hated  thing, 
And  seek  my  chambers  for  a  hiding-place, 
And  I  should  find  them  but  a  sepulchre, 
The  very  rushes  rotted  on  the  floors, 
The  fire  in  ashes  on  the  freezing  hearth. 

I  was  a  queen,  and  he  who  loved  me  best 
Made  me  a  woman  for  a  night  and  day, 
And  now  I  go  unqueened  forevermore. 

A  queen  should  never  dream  on  summer  nights, 
When  hovering  spells  are  heavy  in  the  dusk :  — 
I  think  no  night  was  ever  quite  so  still, 
So  smoothly  lit  with  red  along  the  west, 
So  deeply  hushed  with  quiet  through  and  through. 

[28] 


GUENEVERE 

And  strangely  clear,  and  sharply  dyed  with  light, 
The  trees  stood  straight  against  a  paling  sky, 
With  Venus  burning  lamp-like  in  the  west. 

I  walked  alone  among  a  thousand  flowers, 

That  drooped  their  heads  and  drowsed  beneath  the 

dew, 

And  all  my  thoughts  were  quieted  to  sleep. 
Behind  me,  on  the  walk,  I  heard  a  step — 
I  did  not  know  my  heart  could  tell  his  tread, 
I  did  not  know  I  loved  him  till  that  hour. 
The  garden  reeled  a  little,  I  was  weak, 
And  in  my  breast  I  felt  a  wild,  sick  pain. 
Quickly  he  came  behind  me,  caught  my  arms, 
That  ached  beneath  his  touch;  and  then  I  swayed, 
My  head  fell  backward  and  I  saw  his  face. 

All  this  grows  bitter  that  was  once  so  sweet, 
And  many  mouths  must  drain  the  dregs  of  it, 
But  none  will  pity  me,  nor  pity  him 
Whom  Love  so  lashed,  and  with  such  cruel  thongs. 


[29] 


ERINNA 

THEY  sent  you  in  to  say  farewell  to  me, 
No,  do  not  shake  your  head ;  I  see  your  eyes 
That  shine  with  tears.     Sappho,  you  saw  the  sun 
Just  now  when  you  came  hither;  and  again, 
When  you  have  left  me,  all  the  shimmering 
Great  meadows  will  laugh  lightly,  and  the  sun 
Put  round  about  you  warm  invisible  arms 
As  might  a  lover,  decking  you  with  light. 
I  go  toward  darkness  though  I  lie  so  still. 
If  I  could  see  the  sun,  I  should  look  up 
And  drink  the  light  until  my  eyes  were  blind; 
I  should  kneel  down  and  kiss  the  blades  of  grass, 
And  I  should  call  the  birds  with  such  a  voice, 
With  such  a  longing,  tremulous  and  keen, 
That  they  would  fly  to  me  and  on  the  breast 
Bear  evermore  to  tree-tops  and  to  fields 
The  kiss  I  gave  them. 

Sappho,  tell  me  this, 

Was  I  not  sometimes  fair?    My  eyes,  my  mouth, 
My  hair  that  loved  the  wind,  were  they  not  worth 
The  breath  of  love  upon  them?     Yet  he  passed, 
And  he  will  pass  to-night  when  all  the  air 
Is  blue  with  twilight;  but  I  shall  not  see. 

[30] 


ERINNA 

I  shall  have  gone  forever.     Hold  my  hands, 

Hold  fast  that  Death  may  never  come  between ; 

Swear  by  the  gods  you  will  not  let  me  go ; 

Make  songs  for  Death  as  you  would  sing  to  Love — 

But  you  will  not  assuage  him.     He  alone 

Of  all  the  gods  will  take  no  gifts  from  men. 

I  am  afraid,  afraid. 

Sappho,  lean  down. 

Last  night  the  fever  gave  a  dream  to  me, 
It  takes  my  life  and  gives  me  only  a  dream. 
I  thought  I  saw  him  stand,  the  man  I  love, 
Here  in  my  quiet  chamber,  with  his  eyes 
Fixed  on  me  as  I  entered,  while  he  drew 
Silently  toward  me — he  who  night  by  night 
Goes  by  my  door  without  a  thought  of  me — 
Neared  me  and  put  his  hand  behind  my  head, 
And  leaning  toward  me,  kissed  me  on  the  mouth. 
That  was  a  little  dream  for  Death  to  give, 
Too  short  to  take  the  whole  of  life  for,  yet 
I  woke  with  lips  made  quiet  by  a  kiss. 

The  dream  is  worth  the  dying.    Do  not  smile 
So  sadly  on  me  with  your  shining  eyes, 
You  who  can  set  your  sorrow  to  a  song 
And  ease  your  hurt  by  singing.     But  to  me 
My  songs  are  less  than  sea-sand  that  the  wind 
Drives  stinging  over  me  and  bears  away. 
I  have  no  care  what  place  the  grains  may  fall, 
Nor  of  my  songs,  if  Time  shall  blow  them  back, 
As  land-wind  breaks  the  lines  of  dying  foam 

[31] 


ERINNA 

Along  the  bright  wet  beaches,  scattering 

The  flakes  once  more  against  the  laboring  sea, 

Into  oblivion.     What  do  I  care 

To  please  Apollo  since  Love  does  not  hear? 

Your  words  will  live  forever,  men  will  say 

"She  was  the  perfect  lover" — I  shall  die, 

I  loved  too  much  to  live.     Go  Sappho,  go — 

I  hate  your  hands  that  beat  so  full  of  life, 

Go,  lest  my  hatred  hurt  you.     I  shall  die, 

But  you  will  live  to  love  and  love  again. 

He  might  have  loved  some  other  spring  than  this; 

I  should  have  kept  my  life — I  let  it  go. 

He  would  not  love  me  now  though  Cypris  bound 

Her  girdle  round  me.     I  am  Death's,  not  Love's 

Go  from  me,  Sappho,  back  to  find  the  sun. 

I  am  alone,  alone.     0  Cyprian  .    .    . 


[32] 


LOVE  SONGS 


SONG    / 

You  bound  strong  sandals  on  my  feet, 
You  gave  me  bread  and  wine, 

And  sent  me  under  sun  and  stars, 
For  all  the  world  was  mine. 

Oh  take  the  sandals  off  my  feet, 
You  know  not  what  you  do; 

For  all  my  world  is  in  your  arms, 
My  sun  and  stars  are  you. 


[35] 


THE  ROSE  AND  THE  BEE 

IF  I  were  a  bee  and  you  were  a  rose, 
Would  you  let  me  in  when  the  gray  wind  blows? 
Would  you  hold  your  petals  wide  apart, 
Would  you  let  me  in  to  find  your  heart, 
If  you  were  a  rose? 

"If  I  were  a  rose  and  you  were  a  bee, 
You  should  never  go  when  you  came  to  me, 
I  should  hold  my  love  on  my  heart  at  last, 
I  should  close  my  leaves  and  keep  you  fast, 
If  you  were  a  bee." 


[36] 


THE  SONG  MAKER 

I  MADE  a  hundred  little  songs 

That  told  the  joy  and  pain  of  love, 

And  sang  them  blithely,  though  I  knew 
Nothing  thereof. 

I  was  a  weaver  deaf  and  blind; 

A  miracle  was  wrought  for  me, 
But  I  have  lost  my  skill  to  weave 

Since  I  can  see. 

For  while  I  sang — oh  swift  and  strange ! 

Love  passed  and  touched  me  on  the  brow, 
And  I  who  made  so  many  songs 

Am  silent  now. 


[37] 


WILD  ASTEES 

IN  the  spring  I  asked  the  daisies 

If  his  words  were  true, 
And  the  clever  little  daisies 

Always  knew. 

Now  the  fields  are  brown  and  barren, 

Bitter  autumn  blows, 
And  of  all  the  stupid  asters 

Not  one  knows. 


[38] 


WHEN  LOVE  GOES 

I 

0  MOTHER,  I  am  sick  of  love, 

I  cannot  laugh  nor  lift  my  head, 

My  bitter  dreams  have  broken  me, 
I  would  my  love  were  dead. 

"  Drink  of  the  draught  I  brew  for  thee, 
Thou  shalt  have  quiet  in  its  stead." 

II 

Where  is  the  silver  in  the  rain, 
Where  is  the  music  in  the  sea, 

Where  is  the  bird  that  sang  all  day 
To  break  my  heart  with  melody? 

"The  night  thou  badst  Love  fly  away, 
He  hid  them  all  from  thee." 


[39] 


THE  PEINCESS  IN  THE  TOWER 


THE  Princess  sings: 

I  am  the  princess  up  in  the  tower, 
And  I  dream  the  whole  day  through 

Of  a  knight  who  shall  come  with  a  silver  spear 
And  a  waving  plume  of  blue. 

I  am  the  princess  up  in  the  tower, 
And  I  dream  my  dreams  by  day, 

But  sometimes  I  wake,  and  my  eyes  are  wet, 
When  the  dusk  is  deep  and  gray. 

For  the  peasant  lovers  go  by  beneath, 

I  hear  them  laugh  and  kiss, 
And  I  forget  my  day-dream  knight, 

And  long  for  a  love  like  this. 

II 

The  Minstrel  sings: 

I  lie  beside  the  princess7  tower, 

So  close  she  cannot  see  my  face, 
And  watch  her  dreaming  all  day  long, 

And  bending  with  a  lily's  grace. 
[40] 


THE  PEINCESS  IN  THE  TOWER 

Her  cheeks  are  paler  than  the  moon 

That  sails  along  a  sunny  sky, 
And  yet  her  silent  mouth  is  red 

Where  tender  words  and  kisses  lie. 

I  am  a  minstrel  with  a  harp, 
For  love  of  her  my  songs  are  sweet, 

And  yet  I  dare  not  lift  the  voice 
That  lies  so  far  beneath  her  feet. 

in 

The  Knight  sings: 

0  princess,  cease  your  dreams  awhile 
And  look  adown  your  tower's  gray  side — 

The  princess  gazes  far  away, 
Nor  hears  nor  heeds  the  words  I  cried. 

Perchance  my  heart  was  overbold, 

God  made  her  dreams  too  pure  to  break, 

She  sees  the  angels  in  the  air 
Fly  to  and  fro  for  Mary's  sake. 

Farewell,  I  mount  and  go  my  way, 

— But  oh  her  hair  the  sun  sifts  through — 

The  tilts  and  tourneys  wait  my  spear, 
I  am  the  Knight  of  the  Plume  of  Blue. 


[41] 


WHEN  LOVE  WAS  BOEN 

WHEN  Love  was  born  I  think  he  lay 

Right  warm  on  Venus'  breast, 
And  whiles  he  smiled  and  whiles  would  play 

And  whiles  would  take  his  rest. 

But  always,  folded  out  of  sight, 
The  wings  were  growing  strong 

That  were  to  bear  him  off  in  flight 
Erelong,  erelong. 


[42] 


THE  SHEINE 

THERE  is  no  Lord  within  my  heart, 
Left  silent  as  an  empty  shrine 
Where  rose  and  myrtle  intertwine, 

Within  a  place  apart. 

No  god  is  there  of  carven  stone 

To  watch  with  still  approving  eyes 
My  thoughts  like  steady  incense  rise; 

I  dream  and  weep  alone. 

But  if  I  keep  my  altar  fair, 

Some  morning  I  shall  lift  my  head 
From  roses  deftly  garlanded 

To  find  the  god  is  there. 


[43] 


THE  BLIND 

THE  birds  are  all  a-building, 
They  say  the  world's  a-flower, 

And  still  I  linger  lonely 
Within  a  barren  bower. 

I  weave  a  web  of  fancies 

Of  tears  and  darkness  spun. 
How  shall  I  sing  of  sunlight 

Who  never  saw  the  sun? 

I  hear  the  pipes  a-blowing, 

But  yet  I  may  not  dance, 
I  know  that  Love  is  passing, 

I  cannot  catch  his  glance. 

And  if  his  voice  should  call  me 

And  I  with  groping  dim 
Should  reach  his  place  of  calling 

And  stretch  my  arms  to  him, 

The  wind  would  blow  between  my  hands 

For  Joy  that  I  shall  miss, 
The  rain  would  fall  upon  my  mouth 

That  his  will  never  kiss. 
[44] 


LOVE  ME 

BROWN-THRUSH  singing  all  day  long 

In  the  leaves  above  me, 
Take  my  love  this  April  song, 

"Love  me,  love  me,  love  me!" 

When  he  harkens  what  you  say, 

Bid  him,  lest  he  miss  me, 
Leave  his  work  or  leave  his  play, 

And  kiss  me,  kiss  me,  kiss  mel 


[45] 


THE  SONG  FOE  COLIN 

I  SANG  a  song  at  dusking  time 
Beneath  the  evening  star, 

And  Terence  left  his  latest  rhyme 
To  answer  from  afar. 

Pierrot  laid  down  his  lute  to  weep, 
And  sighed,  "She  sings  for  me/' 

But  Colin  slept  a  careless  sleep 
Beneath  an  apple  tree. 


[46] 


FOUR  WINDS 

"FOUR  winds  blowing  through  the  sky, 
You  have  seen  poor  maidens  die, 
Tell  me  then  what  I  shall  do 
That  my  lover  may  be  true/' 
Said  the  wind  from  out  the  south, 
"Lay  no  kiss  upon  his  mouth/' 
And  the  wind  from  out  the  west, 
"Wound  the  heart  within  his  breast, " 
And  the  wind  from  out  the  east, 
"Send  him  empty  from  the  feast," 
And  the  wind  from  out  the  north, 
"In  the  tempest  thrust  him  forth, 
When  thou  art  more  cruel  than  he, 
Then  will  Love  be  kind  to  thee." 


[47] 


DEW 

I  DREAM  that  he  is  mine, 
I  dream  that  he  is  true, 

And  all  his  words  I  keep 
As  rose-leaves  hold  the  dew. 

0  little  thirsty  rose, 
0  little  heart  beware, 

Lest  you  should  hope  to  hold 
A  hundred  roses'  share. 


[48] 


A  MAIDEN 

OH  if  I  were  the  velvet  rose 

Upon  the  red  rose  vine, 
I'd  climb  to  touch  his  window 

And  make  his  casement  fine. 

And  if  I  were  the  bright-eyed  bird 
That  twitters  on  the  tree, 

All  day  I'd  sing  my  love  for  him 
Till  he  should  harken  me. 

But  since  I  am  a  maiden 

I  go  with  downcast  eyes, 
And  he  will  never  hear  the  songs 

That  he  has  turned  to  sighs. 

And  since  I  am  a  maiden 
My  love  will  never  know 

That  I  could  kiss  him  with  a  mouth 
More  red  than  roses  blow. 


[49] 


"I  LOVE  YOU" 

WHEN  April  bends  above  me 
And  finds  me  fast  asleep, 

Dust  need  not  keep  the  secret 
A  live  heart  died  to  keep. 

When  April  tells  the  thrushes, 
The  meadow-larks  will  know, 

And  pipe  the  three  words  lightly 
To  all  the  winds  that  blow. 

Above  his  roof  the  swallows, 
In  notes  like  far-blown  rain, 

Will  tell  the  chirping  sparrow 
Beside  his  window-pane. 

0  sparrow,  little  sparrow, 
When  I  am  fast  asleep, 

Then  tell  my  love  the  secret 
That  I  have  died  to  keep. 


[50] 


BUT  NOT  TO  ME 

THE  April  night  is  still  and  sweet 
With  flowers  on  every  tree; 

Peace  comes  to  them  on  quiet  feet, 
But  not  to  me. 

My  peace  is  hidden  in  his  breast 
"Where  I  shall  never  be, 

Love  comes  to-night  to  all  the  rest, 
But  not  to  me. 


[51] 


HIDDEN  LOVE 

I  HID  the  love  within  my  heart, 
And  lit  the  laughter  in  my  eyes, 

That  when  we  meet  he  may  not  know 
My  love  that  never  dies. 

But  sometimes  when  he  dreams  at  night 
Of  fragrant  forests  green  and  dim, 

It  may  be  that  my  love  crept  out 
And  brought  the  dream  to  him. 

And  sometimes  when  his  heart  is  sick 
And  suddenly  grows  well  again, 

It  may  be  that  my  love  was  there 
To  free  his  life  of  pain. 


[52] 


SNOW  SONG 

FAIRY  snow,  fairy  snow, 
Blowing,  blowing  everywhere, 

Would  that  I 

Too,  could  fly 
Lightly,  lightly  through  the  air. 

Like  a  small  crystal  star 
I  should  drift,  I  should  blow 

Near,  more  near, 

To  my  dear 
Where  he  comes  through  the  snow. 

I  should  fly  to  my  love 
Like  a  flake  in  the  storm, 

I  should  die, 

I  should  die, 
On  his  lips  that  are  warm. 


[53] 


YOUTH  AND  THE  PILGEIM 

GRAY  pilgrim,  you  have  journeyed  far, 

Swear  on  my  sword  to  me, 
Is  there  a  land  where  Love  is  not, 

By  shore  of  any  sea? 

For  I  am  weary  of  the  god, 
And  I  would  flee  from  him 

Though  I  must  take  a  ship  and  go 
Beyond  the  ocean's  rim. 

"  There  is  a  place  where  Love  is  not, 
But  never  a  ship  leaves  land 

Can  carry  you  so  quickly  there 
As  the  sharp  sword  in  your  hand." 


[54] 


THE  WANDEBEE, 

I  SAW  the  sunset-colored  sands, 
The  Nile  like  flowing  fire  between, 
Where  Rameses  stares  forth  serene, 

And  Ammon's  heavy  temple  stands. 

I  saw  the  rocks  where  long  ago, 

Above  the  sea  that  cries  and  breaks, 
.  Bright  Perseus  with  Medusa's  snakes 
Set  free  the  maiden  white  like  snow. 

And  many  skies  have  covered  me, 

And  many  winds  have  blown  me  forth, 
And  I  have  loved  the  green  bright  north, 

And  I  have  loved  the  cold  sweet  sea. 

But  what  to  me  are  north  and  south, 
And  what  the  lure  of  many  lands, 
Since  you  have  leaned  to  catch  my  hands 

And  lay  a  kiss  upon  my  mouth. 


[55] 


I  WOULD  LIVE  IN  YOUR  LOVE 

I  WOULD  live  in  your  love  as  the  sea-grasses  live  in 

the  sea, 
Borne  up  by  each  wave  as  it  passes,  drawn  down 

by  each  wave  that  recedes; 
I  would  empty  my  mind  of  the  dreams  that  have 

gathered  in  me, 
I  would  beat  with  your  heart  as  it  beats,  I  would 

follow  your  soul  as  it  leads. 


[56] 


MAY 

THE  wind  is  tossing  the  lilacs, 
The  new  leaves  laugh  in  the  sun, 

And  the  petals  fall  on  the  orchard  wall, 
But  for  me  the  spring  is  done. 

Beneath  the  apple  blossoms 

I  go  a  wintry  way, 
For  love  that  smiled  in  April 

Is  false  to  me  in  May. 


[57] 


LESS  THAN  THE  CLOUD  TO  THE  WIND 

LESS  than  the  cloud  to  the  wind, 
Less  than  the  foam  to  the  sea, 

Less  than  the  rose  to  the  storm 
Am  I  to  thee. 

More  than  the  star  to  the  night, 
More  than  the  rain  to  the  tree, 

More  than  heaven  to  earth 
Art  thou  to  me. 


[58] 


BURIED  LOVE 

I  SHALL  bury  my  Love  at  last 

Beneath  a  tree, 
In  the  forest  tall  and  black 

Where  none  can  see. 

I  shall  put  no  flowers  at  his  head, 

Nor  stone  at  his  feet, 
For  the  mouth  I  loved  so  much 

Was  bittersweet. 

I  shall  go  no  more  to  his  grave, 
For  the  woods  are  cold ; 

I  shall  gather  as  much  of  joy 
As  my  hands  can  hold. 

I  shall  stay  all  day  in  the  sun 
Where  the  wide  winds  blow, 

But,  oh,  I  shall  weep  at  night 
When  none  will  know. 


[59] 


SONG 

0  WOE  is  me,  my  heart  is  sad, 
For  I  should  never  know 

If  Love  came  by  like  any  lad, 
Without  his  silver  bow. 

Or  if  he  left  his  arrows  sharp 
And  came  a  minstrel  weary, 

I'd  never  tell  him  by  his  harp 
Nor  know  him  for  my  dearie. 

' '  0  go  your  ways  and  have  no  fear, 
For  though  Love  passes  by, 

He'll  come  again  a  hundred  times, 
Before  your  turn  to  die." 


[60] 


PIERROT 

PIERROT  stands  in  the  garden 
Beneath  a  waning  moon, 

And  on  his  lute  he  fashions 
A  fragile  silver  tune. 

Pierrot  plays  in  the  garden, 
He  thinks  he  plays  for  me, 

But  I  am  quite  forgotten 
Under  the  cherry  tree. 

Pierrot  plays  in  the  garden, 
And  all  the  roses  know 

That  Pierrot  loves  his  music, 
But  I  love  Pierrot. 


[61] 


AT  NIGHT 

LOVE  said,  "Lie  still  and  think  of  me," 
Sleep,  "Close  your  eyes  till  break  of  day, 

But  Dreams  came  by  and  smilingly 

Gave  both,  to  Love  and  Sleep  their  way. 


[62] 


SONG 

WHEN  Love  comes  singing  to  his  heart 
That  would  not  wake  for  me, 

I  think  that  I  •  shall  know  his  joy 
By  my  own  ecstasy. 

And  though  the  sea  were  all  between, 
The  time  their  hands  shall  meet, 

My  heart  will  know  his  happiness, 
So  wildly  it  will  beat. 

And  when  he  bends  above  her  mouth, 

Rejoicing  for  his  sake, 
My  soul  will  sing  a  song,  but  oh, 

My  heart  will  break. 


[63] 


THE  KISS 

I  HOPED  that  he  would  love  me, 
And  he  has  kissed  my  mouth, 

But  I  am  like  a  stricken  bird 
That  cannot  reach  the  south. 

For  though  I  know  he  loves  me, 
To-night  my  heart  is  sad; 

His  kiss  was  not  so  wonderful 
As  all  the  dreams  I  had. 


[64] 


NOVEMBER 

THE  world  is  tired,  the  year  is  old, 
The  faded  leaves  are  glad  to  die, 

The  wind  goes  shivering  with  cold 
Among  the  rushes  dry. 

Our  love  is  dying  like  the  grass, 
And  we  who  kissed  grow  coldly  kind, 

Half  glad  to  see  our  poor  love  pass 
Like  leaves  along  the  wind. 


[65] 


THE  WIND 

A  WIND  is  blowing  over  my  soul, 

I  hear  it  cry  the  whole  night  through- 

Is  there  no  peace  for  me  on  earth 
Except  with  you? 

Alas,  the  wind  has  made  me  wise, 
Over  my  naked  soul  it  blew, — 

There  is  no  peace  for  me  on  earth 
Even  with  you. 


[66] 


A  WINTER  NIGHT 

MY  window-pane  is  starred  with  frost, 
The  world  is  bitter  cold  to-night, 

The  moon  is  cruel  and  the  wind 
Is  like  a  two-edged  sword  to  smite. 

God  pity  all  the  homeless  ones, 
The  beggars  pacing  to  and  fro, 

God  pity  all  the  poor  to-night 
Who  walk  the  lamp-lit  streets  of  snow. 

My  room  is  like  a  bit  of  June, 

Warm  and  close-curtained  fold  on  fold, 
But  somewhere,  like  a  homeless  child, 

My  heart  is  crying  in  the  cold. 


[67] 


THE  METROPOLITAN  TOWER 

WE  walked  together  in  the  dusk 

To  watch  the  tower  grow  dimly  white, 

And  saw  it  lift  against  the  sky 
Its  flower  of  amber  light. 

You  talked  of  half  a  hundred  things, 
I  kept  each  hurried  word  you  said; 

And  when  at  last  the  hour  was  full, 
I  saw  the  light  turn  red. 

You  did  not  know  the  time  had  come, 
You  did  not  see  the  sudden  flower, 

Nor  know  that  in  my  heart  Love's  birth 
Was  reckoned  from  that  hour. 


[68] 


QEAMMEBGY  PARK 

THE  little  park  was  filled  with  peace, 
The  walks  were  carpeted  with  snow, 

But  every  iron  gate  was  locked, 

Lest  if  we  entered,  peace  would  go. 

We  circled  it  a  dozen  times, 

The  wind  was  blowing  from  the  sea, 

I  only  felt  your  restless  eyes 
Whose  love  was  like  a  cloak  for  me. 

Oh  heavy  gates  that  fate  has  locked 
To  bar  the  joy  we  can  not  win, 

Peace  would  go  out  forever 
If  we  should  enter  in. 


[69] 


IN  THE  METROPOLITAN  MUSEUM 

INSIDE  the  tiny  Pantheon 

We  stood  together  silently, 
Leaving  the  restless  crowd  awhile 

As  ships  find  shelter  from  the  sea. 

The  ancient  centuries  came  back 

To  cover  us  a  moment's  space, 
And  through  the  dome  the  light  was  glad 

Because  it  shone  upon  your  face. 

Ah,  not  from  Rome  but  farther  still, 

Beyond  sun-smitten   Salamis, 
The  moment  took  us,  till  you  leaned 

To  find  the  present  with  a  kiss. 


[70] 


CONEY  ISLAND 

WHY  did  you  bring  me  here? 
The  sand  is  white  with  snow, 
Over  the  wooden  domes 
The  winter  sea-winds  blow — 
There  is  no  shelter  near, 
Come,  let  us  go. 

With  foam  of  icy  lace 
The  sea  creeps  up  the  sand, 
The  wind  is  like  a  hand 
That  strikes  us  in  the  face. 
Doors  that  June  set  a-swing 
Are  bolted  long  ago; 
We  try  them  uselessly — 
Alas,  there  cannot  be 
For  us  a  second  spring; 
Come,  let  us  go. 


[71] 


UNION  SQUARE 

WITH  the  man  I  love  who  loves  me  not, 
I  walked  in  the  street-lamps'  flare; 

We  watched  the  world  go  home  that  night 
In  a  flood  through  Union  Square. 

I  leaned  to  catch  the  words  he  said 
That  were  light  as  a  snowflake  falling; 

Ah  well  that  he  never  leaned  to  hear 
The  words  my  heart  was  calling. 

And  on  we  walked  and  on  we  walked 

Past  the  fiery  lights  of  the  picture  shows — 

Where  the  girls  with  thirsty  eyes  go  by 
On  the  errand  each  man  knows. 

And  on  we  walked  and  on  we  walked, 
At  the  door  at  last  we  said  good-bye; 

I  knew  by -his  smile  he  had  not  heard 
My  heart's  unuttered  cry. 

With  the  man  I  love  who  loves  me  not 
I  walked  in  the  street-lamps'  flare — 

But  oh,  the  girls  who  ask  for  love 
In  the  lights  of  Union  Square. 
[72] 


CENTRAL  PARK  AT  DUSK 

BUILDINGS  above  the  leafless  trees 
Loom  high  as  castles  in  a  dream, 

While  one  by  one  the  lamps  come  out 
To  thread  the  twilight  with  a  gleam. 

There  is  no  sign  of  leaf  or  bud, 
A  hush  is  over  everything — 

Silent  as  women  wait  for  love, 
The  world  is  waiting  for  the  spring. 


[73] 


YOUNG  LOVE 

I 
I  CANNOT  heed  the  words  they  say, 

The  lights  grow  far  away  and  dim, 
Amid  the  laughing  girls  and  men 

My  eyes  unbidden  seek  for  him. 

I  hope  that  when  he  smiles  at  me 
He  does  not  guess  my  joy  and  pain, 

For  if  he  did,  he  is  too  kind 
To  ever  look  my  way  again. 

II 

I  have  a  secret  in  my  heart 

No  one  has  ever  heard, 
And  still  it  sings  there  day  by  day 

A  caged  and  restless  bird. 

And  though  it  beats  against  the  bars, 

I  do  not  set  it  free, 
For  I  am  happier  to  know 

It  only  sings  for  me. 

Ill 

I  wrote  his  name  along  the  beach, 
I  love  the  letters  so. 
[74] 


YOUNG  LOVE 

Far  up  it  seemed  and  out  of  reach, 
For  still  the  tide  was  low. 

But,  oh,  the  sea  came  creeping  up, 

And  washed  the  name  away, 
And  on  the  sand  where  it  had  been 

A  bit  of  sea-grass  lay. 

A  bit  of  sea-grass  on  the  sand, 
Dropped  from  a  mermaid's  hair — 

Oh,  had  she  come  to  kiss  his  name 
And  leave  a  token  there? 

IV 

What  am  I  that  he  should  love  me, 
He  who  stands  so  far  above  me, 

What  am  I? 
I  am  like  a  cowslip  turning 

Toward  the  sky, 

Where  a  planet's  golden  burning 
Breaks  the  cowslip's  heart  with  yearning, 
What  am  I  that  he  should  love  me, 

What  am  I? 


0  dreams  that  flock  about  my  sleep, 
I  pray  you  bring  my  love  to  me, 

And  let  me  think  I  hear  his  voice 
Again  ring  free. 

[75] 


YOUNG  LOVE 

And  if  you  care  to  please  me  well, 
And  live  to-morrow  in  my  mind, 

Let  him  who  was  so  cold  before, 
To-night  seem  kind. 

VI 

I  plucked  a  daisy  in  the  fields, 

And  there  beneath  the  sun 
I  let  its  silver  petals  fall 
One  after  one. 

I  said,  "He  loves  me,  loves  me  not/' 

And  oh,  my  heart  beat  fast, 
The  flower  was  kind,  it  let  me  say 
"He  loves  me,"  last. 

I  kissed  the  drooping,  leafless  stem, 

But  oh,  my  poor  heart  knew 
The  words  the  flower  had  said  to  me, 
They  were  not  true. 

x  VII 

I  sent  my  love  a  letter, 

And  if  he  loves  me  not, 
He  shall  not  find  my  love  for  him 

In  any  line  or  dot. 

But  if  he  loves  me  truly, 

He'll  find  it  hidden  deep, 
As  dawn  gleams  red  through  chilly  clouds 

To  eyes  awaked  from  sleep. 
[76] 


YOUNG  LOVE 

VIII 

The  world  is  cold  and  gray  and  wet, 
And  I  am  heavy-hearted,  yet 
When  I  am  home  and  look  to  see 
The  place  my  letters  wait  for  me, 
If  I  should  find  one  letter  there, 
I  think  I  should  not  greatly  care 
If  it  were  rainy  or  were  fair, 
For  all  the  world  would  suddenly 
Seem  like  a  festival  to  me. 

IX 

Across  the  twilight's  violet 

His  curtained  window  glimmers  gold; 
Oh  happy  light  that  round  my  love 
Can  fold. 

Oh  happy  book  within  his  hand, 

Oh  happy  page  he  glorifies, 
Oh  happy  little  word  beneath 
His  eyes. 

But  oh,  thrice  happy,  happy  I 

Who  love  him  more  than  songs  can  tell, 
For  in  the  heaven  of  his  heart 
I  dwell. 


[77] 


SONNETS  AND  LYRICS 


PRIMAVEBA  MIA 

As  kings,  seeing  their  lives  about  to  pass, 
Take  off  the  heavy  ermine  and  the  crown, 
So  had  the  trees  that  autumn-time  laid  down 
Their  golden  garments  on  the  dying  grass, 
When  I,  who  watched  the  seasons  in  the  glass 
Of  my  own  thoughts,  saw  all  the  autumn's  brown 
Leap  into  life  and  wear  a  sunny  gown 
Of  leafage  fresh  as  happy  April  has. 
Great  spring  came  singing  upward  from  the  south ; 
For  in  my  heart,  far  carried  on  the  wind, 
Your  words  like  winged  seeds  took  root  and  grew, 
And  all  the  world  caught  music  from  your  mouth ; 
I  saw  the  light  as  one  who  had  been  blind, 
And  knew  my  sun  and  song  and  spring  were  you. 


[81] 


FOE  THE  ANNIVEESAEY  OF  JOHN 
KEATS'  DEATH 

(February  23,  1821) 

AT  midnight,  when  the  moonlit  cypress  trees 
Have  woven  round  his  grave  a  magic  shade, 
Still  weeping  the  unfinished  hymn  he  made, 
There  moves  fresh  Maia,  like  a  morning  breeze 
Blown  over  jonquil  beds  when  warm  rains  cease. 
And  stooping  where  her  poet's  head  is  laid, 
Selene  weeps,  while  all  the  tides  are  stayed, 
And  swaying  seas  are  darkened  into  peace. 
But  they  who  wake  the  meadows  and  the  tides 
Have  hearts  too  kind  to  bid  him  wake  from  sleep, 
Who  murmurs  sometimes  when  his  dreams  are  deep, 
Startling  the  Quiet  Land  where  he  abides, 
And  charming  still,  sad-eyed  Persephone 
With  visions  of  the  sunny  earth  and  sea. 


[82] 


SILENCE 

(To  Eleonora  Duse) 

WE  are  anhungered  after  solitude, 

Deep  stillness  pure  of  any  speech  or  sound, 

Soft  quiet  hovering  over  pools  profound, 

The  silences  that  on  the  desert  brood, 

Above  a  windless  hush  of  empty  seas, 

The  broad  unfurling  banners  of  the  dawn; 

A  faery  forest  where  there  sleeps  a  Faun; 

Our  souls  are  sick  for  solitudes  like  these. 

O  woman  who  divined  our  weariness, 

And  set  the  crown  of  silence  on  your  art, 

From  what  undreamed-of  depth  within  your  heart 

Have  you  sent  forth  the  hush  that  makes  us  free 

To  hear  an  instant,  high  above  earth's  stress, 

The  shadowy  music  of  infinity? 


[83] 


FEAR 

I  AM  afraid,  oh,  I  am  so  afraid ! 
The  cold  black  fear  is  clutching  me  to-night 
As  long  ago  when  they  would  take  the  light 
And  leave  the  little  child  who  would  have  prayed, 
Frozen  and  sleepless  at  the  thought  of  death. 
My  heart  that  beats  too  fast  will  rest  too  soon; 
I  shall  not  know  if  it  be  night  or  noon — 
Yet  shall  I  struggle  in  the  dark  for  breath  ? 
Will  no  one  fight  the  Terror  for  my  sake, 
The  heavy  darkness  that  no  dawn  will  break? 
How  can  they  leave  me  in  that  dark  alone, 
Who  loved  the  joy  of  light  and  warmth  so  much, 
And  thrilled  so  with  the  sense  of  sound  and  touch — 
How  can  they  shut  me  underneath  a  stone? 


[84] 


GALAHAD  IN  THE  CASTLE  OF 
THE  MAIDENS 

(To  the  maiden  with  the  hidden  face  in  Abbey's  painting) 

THE  other  maidens  raised  their  eyes  to  him 

Who  stumbled  in  before  them  when  the  fight 

Had  left  him  victor,  with  a  victor's  right. 

I  think  his  eyes  with  quick  hot  tears  grew  dim; 

He  scarcely  saw  her  swaying  white  and  slim, 

And  trembling  slightly,  dreaming  of  his  might, 

Nor  knew  he  touched  her  hand,  as  cool  and  light 

As  a  wan  wraith's  beside  a  river's  rim. 

The  other  maidens  raised  their  eyes  to  see 

And  only  she  has  hid  her  face  away, 

And  yet  I  think  she  loved  him  more  than  they, 

And  very  fairly  fashioned  was  her  face. 

Yet  for  Love's  shame  and  sweet  humility, 

She  could  not  meet  him  with  their  queenlike  grace. 


[85] 


TO  AN  JEOLIAN  HARP 

THE  winds  have  grown  articulate  in  thee, 
And  voiced  again  the  wail  of  ancient  woe 
That  smote  upon  the  winds  of  long  ago; 
The  cries  of  Trojan  women  as  they  flee, 
The  quivering  moan  of  pale  Andromache, 
Now  lifted  loud  with  pain  and  now  brought  low. 
It  is  the  soul  of  sorrow  that  we  know, 
As  in  a  shell  the  soul  of  all  the  sea. 
So  sometimes  in  the  compass  of  a  song, 
Unknown  to  him  who  sings,  through  lips  that  live, 
The  voiceless  dead  of  long-forgotten  lands 
Proclaim  to  us  their  heaviness  and  wrong 
In  sweeping  sadness  of  the  winds  that  give 
Thy  strings  no  rest  from  weariless  wild  hands. 


[86] 


TO  EEINNA 

WAS  Time  not  harsh  to  you,  or  was  he  kind, 
0  pale  Erinna  of  the  perfect  lyre, 
That  he  has  left  no  word  of  singing  fire 
Whereby  you  waked  the  dreaming  Lesbian  wind, 
And  kindled  night  along  the  darkened  shore  ? 
O  girl  whose  lips  Erato  stooped  to  kiss, 
Do  you  go  sorrowing  because  of  this 
In  fields  where  poets  sing  forevermore? 
Or  are  you  glad,  and  is  it  best  to  be 
A  silent  music  men  have  never  heard, 
A  dream  in  all  our  hearts  that  we  may  say: 
"Her  voice  had  all  the  rapture  of  the  sea, 
And  all  the  clear  cool  quiver  of  a  bird 
Deep  in  a  forest  at  the  break  of  day"? 


[87] 


TO  CLEIS 

(The  daughter  of  Sappho) 

WHEN  the  dusk  was  wet  with  dew, 

Clei's,  did  the  muses  nine 

Listen  in  a  silent  line 
While  your  mother  sang  to  you? 

Did  they  weep  or  did  they  smile 
When  she  crooned  to  still  your  cries, 
She,  a  muse  in  human  guise, 

Who  forsook  her  lyre  awhile? 

Did  you  feel  her  wild  heart  beat? 
Did  the  warmth  of  all  the  sun 
Through  your  little  body  run 

When  she  kissed  your  hands  and  feet  ? 

Did  your  fingers,  babywise, 

Touch  her  face  and  touch  her  hair, 
Did  you  think  your  mother  fair, 

Could  you  bear  her  burning  eyes? 

Are  the  songs  that  soothed  your  fears 
Vanished  like  a  vanished  flame, 
Save  the  line  where  shines  your  name 

Starlike  down  the  graying  years?  .  .  . 
[88] 


TO  CLEIS 

Clei's  speaks  no  word  to  me, 
For  the  land  where  she  has  gone 
Lies  as  still  at  dusk  and  dawn 

As  a  windless,  tideless  sea. 


[89] 


PAEIS  IN  SPEING 

THE  city  's  all  a-shining 

Beneath  a  fickle  sun, 
A  gay  young  wind  's  a-blowing, 

The  little  shower  is  done. 
But  the  rain-drops  still  are  clinging 

And  falling  one  by  one — 
Oh,  it  's  Paris,  it  's  Paris, 

And  spring-time  has  begun. 

I  know  the  Bois  is  twinkling 

In  a  sort  of  hazy  sheen, 
And  down  the  Champs  the  gray  old  arch 

Stands  cold  and  still  between. 
But  the  walk  is  flecked  with  sunlight 

Where  the  great  acacias  lean, 
Oh,  it  's  Paris,  it  's  Paris, 

And  the  leaves  are  growing  green. 

The  sun  's  gone  in,  the  sparkle  's  dead, 

There  falls  a  dash  of  rain, 
But  who  would  care  when  such  an  air 

Comes  blowing  up  the  Seine? 
[90] 


PARIS  IN  SPRING 

And  still  Ninette  sits  sewing 
Beside  her  window-pane, 

When  it  's  Paris,  it  's  Paris, 
And  spring-time  's  come  again. 


[91] 


MADEIRA  FROM  THE  SEA 

OUT  of  the  delicate  dream  of  the  distance  an  emerald 

emerges 

Veiled  in  the  violet  folds  of  the  air  of  the  sea; 
Softly    the    dream    grows    awakening — shimmering 

white  of  a  city, 

Splashes  of  crimson,  the  gay  bougainvillea,  the  palms. 
High  in  the  infinite  blue  of  its  heaven  a  quiet  cloud 

lingers, 

Lost  and  forgotten  by  winds  that  have  fallen  asleep, 
Fallen  asleep  to  the  tune  of  a  Portuguese  song  in  a 

garden. 


[92] 


CITY  VIGNETTES 
I 


DAWN 


THE  greenish  sky  glows  up  in  misty  reds, 
The  purple  shadows  turn  to  brick  and  stone, 

The  dreams  wear  thin,  men  turn  upon  their  beds, 
And  hear  the  milk-cart  jangle  by  alone. 


II 


DUSK 

The  city's  street,  a  roaring,  blackened  stream, 
Walled  in  by  granite,  through  whose  thousand  eyes 

A  thousand  yellow  lights  begin  to  gleam, 
And  over  all  the  pale,  untroubled  skies. 


Ill 


RAIN   AT   NIGHT 

The  street-lamps  shine  in  a  yellow  line 
Down  the  splashy,  gleaming  street, 

And  the  rain  is  heard,  now  loud,  now  blurred 
By  the  tread  of  homing  feet. 
[93] 


BY  THE  SEA 

BESIDE  an  ebbing  northern  sea, 
While  stars  awaken  one  by  one, 
We  walk  together,  I  and  he. 

He  woos  me  with  an  easy  grace 
That  proves  him  only  half  sincere; 
A  light  smile  nickers  on  his  face. 

To  him  love-making  is  an  art, 
And  as  a  flutist  plays  a  flute, 
So  does  he  play  upon  his  heart 

A  music  varied  to  his  whim. 
He  has  no  use  for  love  of  mine, 
He  would  not  have  me  answer  him. 

To  hide  my  eyes  within  the  night 

I  watch  the  changeful  lighthouse  gleam 

Alternately  with  red  and  white. 

My  laughter  smites  upon  my  ears, 
So  one  who  cries  and  wakes  from  sleep 
Knows  not  it  is  himself  he  hears. 
[94] 


BY  THE  SEA 

What  if  my  voice  should  let  him  know 
The  mocking  words  were  all  a  sham, 
And  lips  that  laugh  could  tremble  so? 

What  if  I  lost  the  power  to  lie, 
And  he  should  only  hear  his  name 
In  a  low,  broken  cry? 


[95] 


;  TRIOLETS 

I 

LOVE  looked  back  as  he  took  his  flight, 
And  lo,  his  eyes  were  filled  with  tears. 

Was  it  for  love  of  lost  delight 

Love  looked  back  as  he  took  his  flight? 

Only  I  know  while  day  grew  night, 
Turning  still  to  the  vanished  years, 

Love  looked  back  as  he  took  his  flight, 
And  lo,  his  eyes  were  filled  with  tears. 

II 

(Written  in  a  copy  of  "La  Vita  Nuova."    For  M.  C.  S.) 

If  you  were  Lady  Beatrice 

And  I  the  Florentine, 
I  'd  never  waste  my  time  like  this — 
If  you  were  Lady  Beatrice 
I  'd  woo  and  then  demand  a  kiss, 

Nor  weep  like  Dante  here,  I  ween, 
If  you  were  Lady  Beatrice 

And  I  the  Florentine. 
[96] 


TRIOLETS 

III 

(Written  in  a  copy  of  "The  Poems  of  Sappho.") 

Beyond  the  dim  Hesperides, 

The  girl  who  sang  them  long  ago 

Could  never  dream  that  over  seas, 

Beyond  the  dim  Hesperides, 

The  wind  would  blow  such  songs  as  these — 
I  wonder  now  if  she  can  know, 

Beyond  the  dim  Hesperides, 

The  girl  who  sang  them  long  ago? 

IV 

Dead  leaves  upon  the  stream 
And  dead  leaves  on  the  air — 

All  of  my  lost  hopes  seem 

Dead  leaves  upon  the  stream; 

I  watch  them  in  a  dream, 
Going,  I  know  not  where, 

Dead  leaves  upon  the  stream 
And  dead  leaves  on  the  air. 


[97] 


VOX  COEPOEIS 

THE  beast  to  the  beast  is  calling, 
And  the  mind  bends  down  to  wait; 

Like  the  stealthy  lord  of  the  jungle, 
The  man  calls  to  his  mate. 

The  beast  to  the  beast  is  calling, 
They  rush  through  the  twilight  sweet — 

But  the  mind  is  a  wary  hunter; 
He  will  not  let  them  meet. 


[98] 


A  BALLAD  OF  TWO  KNIGHTS 

Two  knights  rode  forth  at  early  dawn 

A-seeking  maids  to  wed; 
Said  one,  "My  lady  must  be  fair, 

With  gold  hair  on  her  head." 

Then  spoke  the  other  knight-at-arms : 

"I  care  not  for  her  face, 
But  she  I  love  must  be  a  dove 

For  purity  and  grace." 

And  each  knight  blew  upon  his  horn 
And  went  his  separate  way, 

And  each  knight  found  a  lady-love 
Before  the  fall  of  day. 

But  she  was  brown  who  should  have  had 

The  shining  yellow  hair — 
The  knights  had  both  forgot  their  words 

Or  else  they  ceased  to  care ; 

For  he  who  wanted  purity 

Brought  home  a  wanton  wild — 

And  when  each  saw  the  other  knight 
I  think  that  each  knight  smiled. 
[99] 


CHRISTMAS  CAEOL 

THE  kings  they  came  from  out  the  south, 

All  dressed  in  ermine  fine; 
They  bore  Him  gold  and  chrysoprase, 

And  gifts  of  precious  wine. 

The  shepherds  came  from  out  the  north, 
Their  coats  were  brown  and  old; 

They  brought  Him  little  new-born  lambs— 
They  had  not  any  gold. 

The  wise  men  came  from  out  the  east, 
And  they  were  wrapped  in  white ; 

The  star  that  led  them  all  the  way 
Did  glorify  the  night. 

The  angels  came  from  heaven  high, 
And  they  were  clad  with  wings; 

And  lo,  they  brought  a  joyful  song 
The  host  of  heaven  sings. 

The  kings  they  knocked  upon  the  door, 

The  wise  men  entered  in, 
The  shepherds  followed  after  them 

To  hear  the  song  begin. 
[100] 


CHRISTMAS  CAROL 

The  angels  sang  through  all  the  night 

Until  the  rising  sun, 
But  little  Jesus  fell  asleep 

Before  the  song  was  done. 


[101] 


THE  FAERY  FOREST 

THE  faery  forest  glimmered 

Beneath  an  ivory  moon, 
The  silver  grasses  shimmered 

Against  a  faery  tune. 

Beneath  the  silken  silence 
The  crystal  branches  slept, 

And  dreaming  through  the  dew-fall 
The  cold,  white  blossoms  wept. 


[102] 


A  FANTASY 

HER  voice  is  like  clear  water 
That  drips  upon  a  stone 

In  forests  far  and  silent 
Where  Quiet  plays  alone. 

Her  thoughts  are  like  the  lotus 
Abloom  by  sacred  streams 

Beneath  the  temple  arches 
Where  Quiet  sits  and  dreams. 

Her  kisses  are  the  roses 

That  glow  while  dusk  is  deep 

In  Persian  garden  closes 
Where  Quiet  falls  asleep. 


[103] 


A  MINUET  OF  MOZABT'S 

ACROSS  the  dimly  lighted  room 
The  violin  drew  wefts  of  sound; 
Airily  they  wove  and  wound 

And  glimmered  gold  against  the  gloom. 

I  watched  the  music  turn  to  light, 
But  at  the  pausing  of  the  bow, 
The  web  was  broken,  and  the  glow 

"Was  drowned  within  the  wave  of  night. 


[104] 


TWILIGHT 

DREAMILY,  over  the  roofs, 
The  cold  spring  rain  is  falling ; 

Out  in  the  lonely  tree 
A  bird  is  calling,  calling. 

Slowly,  over  the  earth, 

The  wings  of  night  are  falling; 
My  heart,  like  the  bird  in  the  tree, 

Is  calling,  calling,  calling. 


[105] 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY 

Return  to  desk  from  which  borrowed 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


AVnj 


^121955 
LIBRARY  USE 

FEB  2  6  1956 


ISAprS  2LU 


JAN     91985 

REC'D  L 

REC.  CIR.  J«  2  5  '** 


JAN  10  J959 
JUL6    J9728t 

LD21-100m.9,'48(B399s16)47eREC'D    LD        JUL 


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